


Hatter

by Eilinelithil



Series: Lover's Leap [8]
Category: Alice (TV 2009), Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Angst, Character Death, Curses, F/M, Flashbacks, Friendship, Kidnapping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-25
Updated: 2020-08-25
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:27:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,715
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26111113
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eilinelithil/pseuds/Eilinelithil
Summary: Belle's consciousness is kidnapped as she tries to return from the latest test of the Fairy Curse. Running out of time to bring her back to her body and save her, Rumplestiltskin persuades Jefferson to use the Hat to take them to where they need to be in order to retrieve it, trouble is... it turns out to be the one place in all the realsm that Jeffereson NEVER wanted to see again.
Relationships: Belle/Rumplestiltskin | Mr. Gold, Mad Hatter | Jefferson/Priscilla
Series: Lover's Leap [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1863370
Comments: 10
Kudos: 7





	Hatter

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the eighth AU-gust fic. The prompt was superheroes/superpowers

“What are you doing with my maid!”

Jefferson leaped to his feet from where he was squatting gingerly on the edge of a chair he’d drawn up to the side of the chaise longue. He had carried Belle there when she seemed to go into a swoon mid sentence of their conversation and ever since he had been alternately pacing the great hall, and sitting on the edge of the chair with her pale, cold hand between the warmth of his, patting it as though he thought it would waken her.

“Rumplestiltskin,” he said, turning to face the speaker. “Thank the gods you’re here.” He watched as the master of the Dark Castle strode purposefully across the hall, almost totally ignoring Belle, beyond that first accusatory entrance. Jefferson turned to keep him in sight as he moved toward the chairs by the fireplace.

“We were in the kitchen, and she was so pale,” he explained, “And cold. She was cold, and then she just—”

“Yes, yes,” Rumplestiltskin waved a hand dismissively as he drew out the words and added, “She’ll be fine. Now come over here. We’ve something to discuss.”

“We have?” Jefferson asked with a half puzzled, half concerned frown on his face, looking back over his shoulder at Belle as he moved, just as Rumplestiltskin had commanded. “But… Belle?”

“I said she’ll be fine,” Rumplestiltskin tutted as he sank into a chair by the fire, and looked pointedly at the other. “It’s just the Fairy curse.”

“Fairy curse?” Jefferson echoed, and this seemed to snap the last of Rumplestiltskin’s patience as because the Dark One snapped an answer.

“Yes, Fairy curse, that’s what I said.” He fixed Jefferson with a frown deep enough to melt the coal from a snowman’s face and inquired in his usual snide little singsong voice, “Have you gone deaf all of a sudden?”

“No, I just…” Jefferson lowered himself into the seat opposite Rumplestiltskin and admitted, “I just don’t understand. What Fairy curse?”

“The one that she and I are under,” Rumplestiltskin answered, pointing first at Belle then at himself as he spoke. “Keep up.”

“How?” he asked with no small amount of incredulity in his voice. For Rumplestiltskin to have fallen for such a thing it must have been extremely well placed; well hidden. Or, he mused, there must have otherwise been some kind of extenuating circumstances.

“Why that irritating gnat, Reul Ghorm, of course,” Rumplestiltskin answered, and then smacked his hand down hard upon the arm of his chair as if the action could swat a fly.

* * *

“Where am I?”

It was dark.

Not the kind of darkness one associates with night time, but utter blackness, so much so that she couldn’t see her hand even when she knew she was waving it in front of her face.

“Hello?”

She tried calling again, getting the knot of a very bad feeling in the pit of her stomach. She should have been back by now; back in the Dark Castle, or at the very least in someone else’s life, someone else’s consciousness. She wasn’t in either place.

“Hello!” she called again, this time with more volume, more urgency. Then, an idea came to her, and with a certain note of defiance in her voice, though whom she was defying was anyone’s guess, she began, slowly and deliberately to recite the name.

“Rumplestiltskin. Rumplestiltskin. Rump—”

“I’m afraid that won’t help you here.”

The voice was firm, and while regretful, held an edge to its almost musical tone. Still, Belle finished anyway.

“—lestiltskin!”

Nothing happened.

“I told you,” the voice came again. “That won’t work here. I’m afraid I can’t have you going back, not yet. This wasn’t the way it was meant to be played.”

“Played?” Belle scoffed, “So you think this is a _game_!”

“A figure of speech,” the woman said. “Call it a quest, if you think that suits better.”

A realization dawned on Belle then, and in an accusing tone she said, “Wait. You’re the one that cast the curse; the fairy that tricked Rumple into taking that goblet and drinking from it.”

“I am _a_ fairy, yes,” she said. “And yes, I placed the geas over Rumplestiltskin. And yes, again. I am the one that brought you here… and here you must stay until it is complete.”

“Oh, no,” Belle argued. “I’m going to get out of here. You know I will, and you’re just mad because Rumplestiltskin found the loophole in your little test.” She turned her head first one way, and then the other, trying to find where she might locate the speaker and somehow make her give back her freedom. “Rumplestiltskin won’t stop trying to get me back. You know that too.”

There was a soft sigh, followed by a low sizzling sound, barely audible at first, but growing louder as the fairy spoke, “Then I’m afraid I must send you somewhere he will never find you.”

* * *

Rumplestiltskin felt the echo of a tingle go through him, familiar and yet somehow not so. He frowned, and Jefferson stopped mid word in the sentence of protest he had been making.

“What is it?” Jefferson asked then.

Rumplestiltskin waved a hand. “Did you hear that?”

The Hatter tipped his head as if listening for some unknown sound, and then frowning with both his brows and his lips, which pursed and pushed out slightly, he shook his head.

“Nothing.”

Rumplestiltskin listened harder, shushing the other man, and holding a hand dramatically in the air, as though he were about to announce the solution to the conundrum. After only a moment, he let the hand fall and pulled a sour face… one which turned to worry a moment later.

“All right,” he said to Jefferson, turning the whole of his body around to face the man and tried to let an apparent air of nonchalance belie his words. “There’s something terribly wrong here.” He thought for a moment, and waving a hand in the direction of the door that lead down to the dungeons, said, “Be a dear and run downstairs; fetch me the pillow from one of the rooms down there.”

“From the dungeons?” Jefferson asked, one eyebrow raised, and Rumplestiltskin nodded absently.

“Yes. Fetch the pillow and meet me up in the tower.”

“What about…?” Jefferson gestured to the still unmoving maid as he looked around toward the door Rumplestiltskin had indicated a moment before.

“What about her?” the imp asked, careful to make certain he sounded as though he hadn’t and wouldn’t give her another moment’s thought.

“You’re just going to _leave_ her here?”

“Well what else would I—”

“Like this?” Jefferson’s voice was a protest. “Aren’t you even going to—”

His protest was silenced when a moment later, Rumplestiltskin waved a hand in her direction and a soft blanket appeared and floated gently down over her body.

“There.” He said, adding in a huff of indignation, “Satisfied?”

“Well,” Jefferson answered, “No, not really, bu—”

“The pillow?”

The Hatter threw up his hands in defeat and strode off in the direction of the dungeons. Rumplestiltskin stayed right where he was until he heard the man’s footsteps on the stone steps and then hurried across to where Belle lay, motionless and barely breathing.

“Come on, Belle,” he said, soft but commanding. “This isn’t how it works. You know that.”

He felt the skin of her hand, the chill in it. The way her flesh was beginning to become like cold clay; that though her body was here, it was no longer inhabited by her consciousness, her spirit. It was, essentially, as though she were under a sleeping curse, and he knew that he didn’t have much time. With another wave of his hand, he aparated from the Great Hall to the tower, and began by clearing a space on his work bench and gathering a number of items he would need for the magic he was preparing.

If her body hadn’t called her back - and it would appear that it hadn’t - then he would have to go and get her, and for that, he had to know where ’ _she_ ’ was.

* * *

The first thing she noticed when she opened her eyes in whatever place the fairy had sent her, were the vast mountains of precariously stacked books all around her, all gray and dusty with age and poor treatment. It made her heart hurt.

The second thing that slowly penetrated her awareness was that it appeared everyone was staring at her, and the third was that suddenly everyone started whispering… and from what she could make out, what they were whispering was, “she’s awake…”

She pushed herself up, first on her elbows, and then to a full sitting position, and looked around at the slowly gathering crowd, and then upwards, to the walkway - a second floor hallway of some sort - that encircled the hall in which she, and the books, and the myriad other unfortunate and dourly clad people that were creeping closer to her by the breath, were housed.

“Hello?” she said after a moment or two, and as her voice broke in on the hushed whispering the slowly approaching people reversed their course and then froze several feet away. “Hello…? Hello, please, I won’t hurt you.”

For a long time nobody moved. It seemed like nobody dared, until, eventually, a tiny figure - little more than what her mother would have called a ‘slip of a girl’ - pushed forward, evading the grasp of any and all the adults that tried to stop her, and came to kneel an arm’s reach away from where Belle still sat.

“Are you…?” the girl said slowly, and then appeared to change her mind and instead told her, “They said you’d never wake up.”

Belle drew breath, as if to answer, but then something in the girl stopped her, and instead she reached for her hand and with a gentle squeeze, and an even gentler voice, barely above a whisper, she said, “I’m sorry. I think they might have been right. I’m not who you think I am.”

She expected tears, remonstrations at least, remembering her own self as a girl at that age railing against the injustices her nursemaids put upon her, so when the girl simply nodded, and closed her eyes for a moment, it was in _herself_ that she felt the tears. “Who are you then?”

The question made Belle jump, then she looked around at the still gathered crowd, and finding them not quite so frozen with astonishment any longer, she leaned toward the girl and said, “Is there somewhere we can go… somewhere more… private?”

Again the girl nodded, and got up from her knees, keeping hold of Belle’s hand and pulled her to her feet, where she teetered, barely supported, on legs that were decidedly shaky.

“Is it far?” she asked. The girl shook her head.

“Follow me,” she said, and then led Belle on a winding path through the crowd that was slowly coming to life around them. She led her toward what looked like a dark slit in the wall of wherever they were, and urged Belle through, giving directions from behind this time for Belle to lead them through the increasingly narrow, increasingly low ceilinged tunnel.

Just when she thought she wasn’t going to be able to push her way through any longer, Belle almost _fell_ into what was obviously a cozy little hiding place. She turned to watch as the girl pulled coverings across the narrow crack. The sound she made one that Belle had been hearing on and off all through their journey to the room. She had been hiding them. Why?

“They’ll likely send for Dodo, and he’ll panic. Oh he’ll pretend not to, but…” the girl shrugged. After a pause, she asked, ”And you? We’re safe here. Will you answer my questions now?”

Belle looked around a little longer, and turned back to the girl, trying to work out how old she was. She _seemed_ to be around thirty or forty years old, but she looked no more than five or six.

“My name is Belle,” she said. “And… well… I’m sorry if… if this person was important to you, I… I didn’t _mean_ to intrude I just—”

“How did you get here?” the girl asked. “Through the looking glass, a portal…? But no, I suppose some other way, because you aren’t really here, are you? Just your spirit…”

She trailed off as if there was something else she was going to say but hadn’t. Belle didn’t really pay it much attention, since she latched onto _one_ thing the girl had said.

“Portal?” Belle asked, not answering the girl’s questions, and frowning at a twinge of something familiar she saw in the girl’s eyes. “You know about portals?”

“Of course I know about them.” The girl gave an exaggerated sigh, and then asked, “would you like some tea…? While we talk, I mean.”

“I’d like that…” Belle answered, leaving a space for the girl to supply her with a name with which to call her.

“I have people here call me Ash-Sulo.” She shrugged again. “You can call me Ash.”

* * *

“You know,” Jefferson panted out the words and leaned on the bench as he set the pillow down. “There’s something incredibly sadistic in making a man like me walk up and down stairs to fetch a pillow that you could have just…” He waved his arms around in a pantomime of spell casting as he tried to catch his breath.

“How many times do I have to tell you,” Rumplestiltskin answered without looking up from his work. “All magic—”

“—comes with a price,” Jefferson finished, finally straightening up. “Yes, I know. And in this case so did _not_ magic. Do you _know_ how many steps I’ve just climbed to bring you this pillow.?”

He slapped the surface of the pillow, sending a plume of dust into the air, which Rumplestiltskin swept away with a wave of his hand as he answered absently, “Yes. A hundred and five.”

“A hundred and _seven_.” Jefferson corrected him.

Rumplestiltskin thought for a moment and then shrugged. “What’s a couple of steps between friends?”

Jefferson rolled his eyes then asked, “And since when did you start giving your prisoners _pillows_?”

“I don’t.” Rumplestiltskin deadpanned.

Jefferson raised an eyebrow, waiting for him to go on. He didn’t. So, speculating, the Hatter said with mild accusation. “This was _hers_ wasn’t it? Belle’s pillow.”

“Quiet,” Rumplestiltskin snapped. “I’m trying to concentrate.”

Jefferson knew better than to disobey, so he drew up a chair, turned it backwards to the workbench and straddled it to watch as Rumplestiltskin formulated the spell. He wasn’t exactly a stranger to magic. He’d been around the Dark One for long enough to be present many of the times he’d used his magic. He’d even acquired many magical items for him during the course of their relationship. He watched as Rumplestiltskin picked up the pillow and examined it carefully on both sides, then plucked at a single strand of hair, which he added to the potion that was brewing on the stand, before he took a sharp knife to the pillow and cut it apart, keeping the fabric cover from one side, and tossing the rest away. The fabric he cut into strips.

“There,” Rumplestiltskin announced in a triumphant tone. “That should do it.”

“That will help you to bring her back?” Jefferson asked, tipping his head to one side. He had a gnawing feeling beginning to nag at the pit of his stomach.

“With your help,” Rumplestiltskin purred.

“My—?” Jefferson began, but the penny dropped before he could get out another word. “Oh, no,” he said, “You _know_ I won’t do that any more. I have Grace to think of and—”

“—And yet,” Rumplestiltskin interjected, “you still carry around your hat.”

It took him a moment to come up with a plausible response to the Dark One’s accusation, and when he did, it sounded weak even to his own ears.

“What self respecting gentleman would be seen without a hat?”

“Jefferson,” Rumplestiltskin practically sang his name. “I know you as well as I know myself. We’re alike, you and I; both of us would do _anything_ for our child. Help me to find Belle, and I will be in your debt. You and Grace will want for _nothing_.”

He tightened his jaw, trying not to let himself be seduced by the Dark One’s words. He swallowed hard and then, almost on automatic, said, “Anyway, it won’t work. It can’t. Even if I _do_ help you to find her, I can’t help you to bring her home. Two in, two back. The Hat’s rules, not mine.”

“Ah, but it’s just her consciousness we’ll be carrying, not her physical body.” Rumplestiltskin argued. “And even that will be… contained.”

Jefferson caught the movement of Rumplestiltskin’s hand from the corner of his eye as he picked up something from the side of the bench. A cuboid object with markings all over and a gemstone at the top. It lay dark and acquiescent in the Dark One’s palm.

“I…” He pursed his lips, then said honestly, “…am not sure how the Hat would interpret that.”

“Portal jumping is _your_ superpower, not mine,” Rumplestiltskin told him. “I can’t aparate across realms, not without an anchor, or being called upon.”

Jefferson sighed, feeling himself weakening at the look of… what was it…? Worry? Concern? Desperation that was settling into every shining scale of Rumplestiltskin’s being.

“If it comes to a choice,” Rumplestiltskin added, dropping all of his playful, impish tones for the truth of his own voice. “You bring _her_ home.” He reached into his long, leather jacket and pulled out a fluted blade which he set upon the top of the work bench, before waving his hand over it. Jefferson watched a shimmering purple envelop the dagger.

“She’ll know what to do,” Rumplestiltskin murmured.

* * *

“So…” Belle sipped her tea as she looked over at the girl, no, she reminded herself. Not the girl. She had a name and it was Ash. “…you’re not really here either?”

Ash shook her head. “Hence the name. They don’t know that though.” She waved a hand vaguely in the direction from which they’d come. “And they treat me like an orphan,” she shrugged again. “But I’m here, a spark… a flicker of consciousness that my real self can find in her dreams. It was meant to be a comfort. _His_ gift to her father. To make amends; appease his conscience, but she never woke up. No matter what magic, or science was used on her, she stayed, just lifeless.”

“His?” Belle asked.

“I don’t speak the name he uses here,” she said, and there was a great deal of bitterness in her voice. “He stole it, and he _insults_ it with his use of it.”

“But he must _have_ a name,” Belle pressed, remembering what Rumplestiltskin always said. “Names are important, valuable.”

“William,” Ash snarled. “If you ever meet him, _that_ will give you power over him.”

“I don’t _want_ power over him… over _anyone_.” Belle said. “I just want to get _home_.”

“You might not _want_ it, but you might need it,” Ash said. “William is a master manipulator around here.”

Belle fell to silence then, sipping her tea and contemplated the confusing half-conversation she was having with Ash, trying to make sense of it all. It was easy enough to figure out that this man she so disliked, this ‘William’ had somehow wronged her family; that there was some kind of connection between this - what had she called herself, a ‘golem’? - and the body Belle now inhabited. Her mind sprang back and forth over everything she knew from their conversation, and then the truth hit her like a barrel of cold, wet fish.

* * *

Rumplestiltskin felt a pang of guilt as he watched Jefferson, his free hand in a tight fist at his side, hold out his hat for Rumplestiltskin to drop in one of the strips of fabric from the pillow cover. Since he didn’t _know_ where to find Belle’s consciousness, he couldn’t think of it as the portal opened, as Jefferson had told him he must. This was his solution. Let the magic of the locator spell guide the Hat.

With that, The Hatter set the Hat upon the floor and set it spinning. Barely a breath later, the Hat’s spin took on a life of its own; faster and faster emitting a haze of purple as the portal began to open.

“It’s working,” Jefferson announced redundantly, and Rumplestiltskin sincerely hoped so; that it would take them to the right place. As soon as the portal opened, Jefferson gestured toward the swirling torrent, nodding to Rumplestiltskin, and before the other man could change his mind, Rumplestiltskin clapped him heartily on the back so hard that the Jefferson stumbled forward just as Rumplestiltskin took a confident step into the maelstrom; the both of them passing through.

As soon as the Hat deposited them into the circular room between world, Jefferson caught his arm, his fingers digging into Rumplestiltskin’s arm with an urgency that almost startled the Dark One.

“Something’s wrong.” Jefferson said dourly.

Rumplestiltskin frowned.

“The doors,” Jefferson said, gesturing around them. “They’re all… unmarked.”

“Well, we don’t need the markings to guide us,” Rumplestiltskin answered, “Look. It knows where we have to go.”

He gestured toward the scrap of fabric that had led them through the Hat, which sure enough was hovering against one of the doors. He heard Jefferson take in a deep breath, and let it out as a heavy sigh as he picked up the hat, and settled it onto his head.

“Fine then,” he almost snapped. “Lead the way.”

* * *

“I thought fairies were supposed to be good,” Ash said, confusion in her voice.

Belle sighed. “I suppose it’s like anything really,” she said. “If someone _believes_ they’re doing the right thing, does that make them good, or evil?”

“Good beings don’t cast curses,” Ash answered with all the idealism of the child she appeared to be.

“She didn’t call it a curse,” Belle said. “She called it a… geas.”

“Seems to me it amounts to the same thing,” Ash said dismissively. “Whatever it is, it pulls you somewhere against your will, makes you do things that may or may not be right; puts you through… all kinds of sorrows, from the sounds of it. What’s the point.”

Belle sighed again. “A good question,” she said. “At first I thought it was meant for us to right wrongs in the places we were taken, but there were several times where there seemed nothing to be done; nothing to set right.”

“Then it’s… meant to be teaching _you_ a lesson? Like a parent scalding an errant child.” Those words, coming from mouth of one appearing like a child made Belle chuckle humorlessly. “Sounds like a curse to me. One person forcing their will onto another.”

“When you put it like that…” Belle mused.

“So what will you do?” Ash asked. “To get back, I mean, back to your own body. It can’t be good for it to be without you spirit.”

“I’d like to hope that Rumplestiltskin will—”

“The Dark One!” Ash exclaimed, and for just a moment Belle had time to wonder how a girl from as strange a land as this one had heard of the Dark One, especially as the fairy had sent her here because she said Rumplestiltskin would never _find_ her in this place. Then, Ash said, “If you were sent here by a fairy, and expect to be rescued by the Dark One, Belle, if you don’t mind me saying, I think you’re in a _world_ of trouble.” Ash sighed then, and closing her eyes said, “It seems we might _have_ to speak with _him_ after all.”

* * *

Following Rumplestiltskin, who followed the fabric through the door by which it was hovering Jefferson looked around at the unremarkable clearing in which they found themselves. There was browning grass beneath their feet. A squat building behind them, and the side of a larger building that stretched up several storeys into the graying sky above them, with a door that the fabric fluttered towards.

“Well,” Rumplestiltskin said, watching the floating fabric. “There’s magic here at least, though the feel of it is… strange somehow.”

Jefferson shook his head, the feeling of unease biting at his insides again, and making him feel slightly nauseous.

“I thought we came here to find Belle, not to deliver a treatise on the many shades of magic.”

“Well, well…” Rumplestiltskin sang almost snidely. “Who got out of the wrong side of the bed this morning?”

“I just feel uneasy here,” Jefferson said, striding toward the door indicated by their woven guide, and tugging on the handle. “That’s—”

He pulled open the door and everything inside of him twisted into a burning knot of pain and anguish as he saw what was beyond. The door opened onto a narrow ledge that ran the length of the building they were currently, and in contradiction what seemed the truth, _inside_ of. A similar ledge ran the length of the building opposite, and between was the yarning chasm of a drop, perhaps a mile or more to the ground below.

He slammed the door shut, leaning on it to bar the way, and bent to lean his hands on his knees as the familiar feeling of panic swept through him.

“No, no, no, no, no, no, no,” he blurted out the word so many times before he could form others. “We can’t _be_ here. We have to leave. _Now_!”

“Jefferson…” Rumplestiltskin started, but he shook his head.

“We can’t _be_ here,” he insisted. “Even _you_ don’t want to be here. If Belle is in this realm then you’ll _have_ to find another way.”

He snatched the hat from the top of his head, and lowered it toward the ground, but Rumplestiltskin stepped up to him and stopped him.

“There _is_ no other way,” He felt Rumplestiltskin’s hands, almost gentle at his shoulders, straightening him up. “Where exactly is _here?_ ”

“Wonderland,” Jefferson whispered, feeling bile crawling up his throat.

“No,” Rumplestiltskin sang. “You’re mistaken. Wonderland doesn’t look like this.”

Jefferson shook his head again. “Wonderland two point oh,” he said, “and believe me it is _not_ an improvement on the original.”

“You have a history here,” Rumplestiltskin as much stated as asked. Jefferson didn’t answer, he couldn’t. Then Rumplestiltskin dropped all pretense and guile, and said honest, and urgently. “Jefferson, I _need_ your help. I can’t _do_ this without you, and I _have_ to get Belle home.”

For many long moments, Jefferson stared at Rumplestiltskin. He saw the Dark One’s pain - loss for a second time, and knew - where others might not - how much Rumplestiltskin truly cared for Belle. How could he deny the man solace just because of his own pain; his own loss.

“I help you get Belle back to the Enchanted Forest, and you do _everything_ you can to get me home to my Grace. No matter what.”

He saw Rumplestiltskin frown, as he repeated. “No matter what…?”

“Do we have a deal!” Jefferson demanded through teeth clenched so hard his jaw hurt. He _had_ to be sure that whatever happened, he would get home to hold Grace in his arms again, and he _knew_ Rumplestiltskin _never_ reneged on a deal.

“Deal.” Rumplestiltskin agreed without a playful hint about him.

* * *

“It’s probably better if you wait here,” Ash told her, but Belle shook her head.

“If this man, this _William_ can help to get me home, then I’m coming with you,” she said. “I want _no_ more delays.”

Ash sighed. “Fine. Have it your way,” she said, “Just remember though, nothing here is what it seems, so you do what I say, _when_ I say.” She offered a smile. “If you want to stay safe.”

“All right,” Belle agreed. “So… where are we going?”

Ash tipped her head to the side. “The Tea Shop, of course,” she said as though it were the most obvious thing in the world, then moved toward one side of the little room where they had been sheltering, uncovering a doorway that Belle could never have guessed was there. She opened it up before turning to say over her shoulder, “Where else would you expect to find Hatter.”

Before Belle could catch up with what Ash had just said, the girl had disappeared through the door, and she had to hurry to catch up.

“Wait!” she called out, reaching out to catch Ash’s trailing arm, pulling her to a halt. “Jefferson’s _here_?” she said. “But I… I—”

She stopped as she saw a flash of something… hurt, pain… longing, pass across Ash’s face. It was gone a moment later as she pulled her arm from Belle’s.

“I told you,” she growled. “His name is William.”

“Sorry,” Belle said, genuinely so. “I’m just a little confused, that’s all. I didn’t mean to offend.”

“I know,” Ash said, offering her a wry smile. “And I didn’t mean to snap. It’s just that… I told you. “William _stole_ the name they call him here, and he pretends to be something he’s not. You’ll see.” She nodded then in the direction they had to go, and Belle noticed, for the first time, that they were to walk along a ledge on the side of a tall, tall building. She wasn’t afraid of heights, but the speed at which which Ash moved was dizzying. As if she guessed what Belle was thinking, Ash called back, “Try to keep up. The less time we spend out here, the better.”

* * *

Rumplestiltskin released the second of the strips of cloth, the first long since disappeared beyond sight as it had gone through the door the moment Jefferson had opened it the first time. This time they followed, hurrying along ledge after ledge, climbing up and down ladders to negotiate breaks in the ledges.

Before too long the constant grayness of the place began to affect Rumplestiltskin’s mood, turning him dour, allowing despair to creep into his heart. He’d lost Bae. Through nothing but his own cowardice and stupidity, he’d lost his son and now it seemed that he had lost Belle as well; his little maid, with whom - and the next thought terrified him - he began to realize, he was falling in love, and behind it all, one creature. One being. One _fairy_.

Reul Ghorm.

She would pay for everything, one way or another, in the end.

“Careful, Dark One,” Jefferson’s voice broke in on his darkening thoughts. “Around here, people pay good money for _that_ kind of rage.”

Rumplestiltskin frowned, then even as Jefferson spoke the words, he looked at his hands and saw that Jefferson was telling the truth. “You’re glowing.”

Choosing to change the subject, at least a little, Rumplestiltskin hurried a step or two to catch up to the scrap of cloth before it could drift out of reach across a broken section of the ledge.

“Any idea where this is taking us?” he asked of Jefferson. “You’ve obviously been here before.”

“I have,” The Hatter confirmed, “But as yet, no idea… these ledges lead to everywhere and nowhere, and it would help if I had some clue to catch my bearings. It’s… been a long time.”

Rumplestiltskin frowned, and with the scrap of cloth now in his hand, he turned to face Jefferson.

“How long?” he asked softly, beginning to get a worried, almost prescient sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach.

“Five years,” Jefferson almost whispered.

* * *

Belle started as Ash reached out and caught her wrist, just as she would have stepped onto the bridge that spanned the gaping chasm and into the sunlight.

“Wait for the clouds,” Ash said, looking up at the sky, “Then go straight across. Don’t stop for _any_ reason.”

Belle nodded.

“We’re going into that door the other side?”

“Yes, but wait under the porch until I get there,” she said, “You don’t want to go in there alone, and we’re only passing through anyway.”

Belle took a deep breath. “All right,” she said, watching as the patch of shadow began to engulf the span of the bridge.

“Go!” Ash said and gave her a push, and Belle ran on still unsteady legs and in the following instant wished she hadn’t even thought of that as one of her knees gave way, and she stumbled into an untidy heap.

Behind her she heard Ash utter a word that no young child should know, and in the next instant felt the tug on her arm that hauled her to her feet with a strength that she shouldn’t have had either. They barely made it to the shelter of the porch before the cloud passed and sunlight streamed into the place where Belle had fallen.

Before Ash could reach for the door, Belle caught her arm. “Why stay out of the sunlight?” she asked.

“People from other worlds get marked here when the sunlight hits them, and those marked get picked up by the Queen’s agents and are… tapped for the essence of their emotions. It’s not a pretty fate.”

Belle shuddered, the look on Ash’s face convincing her of the girl’s words. “No sun. Got it,” she said.

At that, Ash shook off her restraining hand and pulled open the door, leading her into the chaos and cacophony inside.

Belle had never seen anything quite like it. Men and women all shouting and waving their hands in the air as if trying to catch the attention of a man in a fur coat sleeping at a podium, behind him, words and numbers scrolled in colors across a black stripe, as if somehow valuing the emotions they named. To the side, when she turned, looking in wonder, she saw a shelf on which were bottles of colored liquids, each labeled with the name of an emotion. She saw excitement, lust, and passion… many others.

A sick feeling began to settle into her stomach as she put together what she saw, with what Ash had told her moments ago, and the utter, unrelenting gray of the city through which they had made their mad dash.

“Come on,” she jumped as Ash took her hand and drew her through the room, to a shaded courtyard beyond, and as if sensing their presence, a man spoke from where he was hidden by the high back of a molded chair.

“Would you care for some tea?”

“We’re not here for your _tea_ , Hatter,” Ash snapped, “I need some help to get my friend here home to her own world.”

“Hmmm,” the voice said as the chair began to swivel to bring him into view. “That’ll cost ya.”

As the man came into view. Belle gasped. Dressed in a brown leather jacket over a brown and cream patterned shirt, dark pants completing the outfit, the man looked as if he were trying to imitate Jefferson, even down to the - somewhat small - top hat perched on top of his unruly hair, and _he_ didn’t seem any more pleased to see _either_ of them, than Ash was to be in his presence.

* * *

Faster now, the scrap of fabric moved along the ledge, leading them on.

“We’re close,” Rumplestiltskin murmured.

“Good,” Jefferson snapped back, more agitated, Rumplestiltskin noted, by the moment they stayed in this strange, and too wrong version of Wonderland. “The sooner we find her, the sooner we can leave.”

“There.” The fabric scrap hovered in the air part folded, pressing against a door in the wall they walked along, and Rumplestiltskin reached for the handle, fully prepared to open it.

“Wait. Wait!” Jefferson caught his arm, pulling him out of reach of the handle, dangerously close to ledge’s crumbled edge. He pulled him back a moment later, pressing him against the wall to one side of the door, while he moved closer to the wooden entry way to whatever it was that lay beyond. “It never pays to take risks here. You should always know what’s on the other side of _any_ door.”

“And how, pray tell—” Rumplestiltskin began, but Jefferson hushed him, and then pressed his ear to the wood. After a moment, Rumplestiltskin moved closer and did likewise.

 _”So you thought bringing her here was a good idea, did you?”_ The voice was agitated, male and had a slightly nasal quality to it. Whoever it was, they were certainly unhappy. _“Stellar, just stellar!”_

 _”You’re the only one that could possibly find a way. What choice did I have?”_ This voice high pitched, like a child. 

_”Well, y’ certainly didn’t need to involve_ me _in your little… what is it now - family reunion?”_

 _”What would you have me do? Abandon her to the Suits? Give her back to Carpenter… or are you forgetting, that was_ your _idea in the first—”_

Rumplestiltskin had heard enough. He pushed Jefferson aside, and opened the door, stepping through before The Hatter could stop him. As soon as the door was open, the fabric sped forward, began fluttering around a woman he did not recognize, but felt he should know.

“What the—”

A man that seemed to him remarkably akin to Jefferson swung around to face the open door, but any response Rumplestiltskin might have made was halted before it began by Jefferson’s anguished cry.

“No!”

The cry was answered by the would-be Hatter, in outrage, pointing at Jefferson, he answered, “You!”

Jefferson wasn’t looking at him though, but at the woman around whom the fabric was circling like a butterfly after a flower.

“What did you do!” Jefferson snarled.

“I can explain,” the other man began, but at his words, whatever anguished inertia was holding Jefferson in place snapped and he practically _flew_ across the space between them, grasping him by the throat, and upturning a trestle table ladened with crockery - the makings of tea - on his way to pin the other man to the wall of the trailer behind.

“What did you do!” Jefferson repeated, voice raised, body trembling as he pinned the man in place. “What did you do? What did you _do!_ ”

“You were _never_ to come back here,” the man rasped. “You swore—”

“And that’s supposed to make this _right?_ ” Jefferson pulled him away from the tailer wall and then thrust him back against it again, one… twice…

Rumplestiltskin through to intervene, though for barely a moment. What was going on here was clearly personal, and unresolved… and besides, if it helped them to be able to free Belle from the person she now inhabited…

“It wasn’t me!” the man in brown tried. “Not all me… like she said, Carpenter—”

“Like she said…” Jefferson slammed the man against the trailer again, dislodging the rounded hat he wore, “…it was _your_ idea,”

“All right, All right.” He raised his hands, trying to push Jefferson away, but there was no moving him. “I just thought—”

“You _thought!_ ” Jefferson’s voice cracked. “What did you think? With me out of the way you could… what? You could make yourself _real?_ Resurrect her… have her by your side… for your _self!_ ”

The thought clearly enraged his friend beyond reason, and even before Belle-who-was-the-woman-in-question voiced a quiet entreaty, Rumplestiltskin began to raise a hand.

“Rumple,” she said softly, drawing Rumplestiltskin’s gaze her way. “Do something. He’s going to kill him.”

Sure enough, when he looked back, Jefferson had both his hands around the other man’s neck, and was beating his head against the wall over and over, spittle flying and lost in grief as he repeated, “She was _mine_ , she was never meant to _be_ here— all _your_ fault! Your fault!”

Rumplestiltskin took time to properly formulate the magic he would cast before releasing it to hold both Jefferson and whomever was the cause of his breakdown, because he suspected that magic in Wonderland was unstable.

Frozen in place, Jefferson turned his grief on _him_.

“Let me _go!_ ” he demanded. “You don’t know what he’s done. You don’t understand! She should never have been here. She came for me, and it was all _his_ fault.”

“Oh no,” the other man said, and now that he was able to better use his voice, he did just that. “You can’t lay that on me. I won’t have—”

“You. Brought. Me. here,” Jefferson snarled again, and Rumplestiltskin had _never_ seen this side of him. “Tempted me… I would never have—”

“Never?” There was bitter incredulity in the other man’s voice - bordering on hate. “You are as avaricious as the next man! I only sent the information your way. _You_ were the one that acted on it, _and_ the one that chose to go back for your _precious_ ha—!”

“You knew my situation! Manipulated me!”

Ladened with sarcasm as Jefferson spoke over him, the other man finished, “One last heist for the famous Jeffers—.”

“Enough!” Rumplestiltskin roared, closing a fist in the air and silencing the other man’s voice. He had heard enough, and his own conscience was pricked. He, too, had used Jefferson to his own ends; was doing so now and with all that had come to pass, he felt responsible for his friend’s pain.

“You have crossed a line… dearie” he said the the other Hatter… the _lesser_ of them. “You’re lucky I don’t _rip_ your heart out and crush it like a bug.”

He was so focused on the troublemaker that he didn’t notice Belle moving around behind him until it was too late.

* * *

His heart and mind were scrambled, like the eggs he made in a pan for Grace - when they had them - all anguish, loss and rage, such a terrible rage, all swirling red and blue and blacker than black; a gaping hole, never healed, seared by bitter salt.

He repeated, “Let me go,” more entreaty than demand, and then she spoke.

“Jefferson…”

That voice, oh too long forgotten and remembered all in a single instant, his name on her lips, but…

_It took him a moment to realize that she wasn’t keeping pace with him, and skidding to a halt he turned - a nightmare in the making - her knees buckled, but he was with her before she hit the ground._

_“No, no, no,” he whimpered, cradling her against him._

_“Jefferson,” she whispered, her breathing already labored._

_“Don’t try and talk,” he urged her. “Hold on to me. I’ll get you home.”_

_“No… time,” she gasped and her hand twisted in his shirt as a spasm of pain raced through her with the poison in her blood. “Leave… me.”_

_“No!” he cried, “Stay… stay with me!”_

_“Grace…” She was struggling for breath and for words now. “…she… needs…”_

_“She needs her_ mother! _” he interrupted._

_“Go… to… Go to her,” she was as insistent as she could be, her strength failing fast. “Promise… Promise… me!”_

_“Priscilla,” he whimpered. “No!”_

_“Pr…omise.” Her voice was barely there, and he knew there was nothing…_ nothing _he could do._

_His body shook with sobs as he made the promise she asked of him, whispering the word over and over as he rocked her body in his arms._

“…it’s me.”

“No!” he cried, the part of him that knew it was Belle was locked away behind the ocean of grief in which he was drowning. The madness of it overwhelming.

“You _can’t_ be here… you died! I _held_ you in my arms - shared your last breath! I _promised_ …”

“It’s Belle,” Priscilla’s voice, but he couldn’t make sense of it.

“Stay back!” he implored, panic joining with the maelstrom in his heart. “Stay away!”

She stopped moving at last, and he saw her glance aside, just as Rumplestiltskin called his name, and something in the tone of his voice caught his turmoil, confined it, and the madness slowly receded.

“Belle…?” he whispered.

“Jefferson,” Rumplestiltskin called on him again. “I’m going to release you… we’re going to take back Belle’s consciousness; have to.”

“Please,” Jefferson began, tears streaming down his face, and he staggered as Rumplestiltskin freed him from the spell. “Please,” he said again, and stumbled toward the Dark One. “Don’t leave her like this.” He gestured toward the creature that had been made of his late wife. “Free her.” He grasped Rumplestiltskin’s arm, even as Rumplestiltskin took the magical box from some hidden pocket on his coat. “Don’t let them do this to her. Not again.”

Rumplestiltskin’s eyes met his, his tear-blurred vision only enhancing the earnest look he saw in them. Then Rumplestiltskin nodded.

“Turn away,” he said, but Jefferson shook his head.

“I have to see,” he rasped out the words as a whisper. “To know she’s finally… at peace.”

Rumplestiltskin seemed to be studying him, examining every _inch_ of his heart and soul, before he said quietly, “As you wish.”

Jefferson took a deep breath, stealing himself for what was to come, blinking to clear the tears from his eyes, and watching as Rumplestiltskin raised his hand over the gemstone on the box.

“Wait!” From nowhere, so it seemed, a child’s voice called out, her voice urgent, imploring. “I want to go home too.”

Jefferson turned his head toward the sound of the voice, and felt his knees go weak. heat rose in his throat, and he let out a strangled cry. But for Rumplestiltskin’s quick reflexes he would have fallen.

“No,” he gasped, the madness starting to rise again. “You’re not here. You’re not real!”

“Please, Papa,” the child said, clearly saddened by his reaction. “It’s all right. _You’re_ right. I’m _not_ real. He… Carpenter, he made me from the last thought in Mama’s mind, and pulled a tiny part of me _here_.”

“Rumplestiltskin…” Jefferson breathed, forcing back the panic… the madness.

“And I want to come home… be _whole_ again.” 

He watched as Rumplestiltskin was clearly calculating… working out what could be done, before he finally said, “Take Belle’s hand.”

She moved to obey, and strangely, instead of more pain, the sight of ‘mother’ and ‘daughter’ together calmed the tumult inside of Jefferson, and an almost soft smile came to his face as his eyes filled with tears once more.

He felt Rumplestiltskin’s eyes on him, and nodded once, taking another deep breath as the Dark One raised his hand again over the gemstone on the box, letting his magic open the vessel.

Two bright streams of light snaked from the figures in front of them, pulled toward the box in Rumplestiltskin’s hand, disappearing inside. The Dark One held the box steady until the finest and last speck of light had been consumed by it, and then waved his hand once more to the close the box.

Without consciousness, the golem-that-had-been-Grace stood immobile, a blank slate awaiting command, but Priscilla’s reanimated flesh - whether through the passage of time, or by some magic of Rumplestiltskin’s making - slowly dessicated and crumbled into dust.

Jefferson let out a single sob, then watched, moved to the depth of his soul as Rumplestiltskin swirled his hand above the pile of dust, momentarily obscuring it with the haze of his power, which faded to leave behind a small, but intricately carved crystalline urn in its place.

“Let’s bring her home,” Rumplestiltskin said, nodding toward the urn, and trembling, Jefferson crossed the short distance to pick up the urn, cradling it close to his chest.

* * *

It had surprised Rumplestiltskin that Jefferson had asked to have the urn interred in a quiet space within the grounds of the Dark Castle; surprised but also touched him deeply. Though their relationship may have begun otherwise, Rumplestiltskin considered Jefferson a friend. One of very few… perhaps even one of only two.

Prior to the short ceremony they had held for Priscilla, Rumplestiltskin had returned Belle’s consciousness to her body, and though she was tired and weak from the ordeal she was put through - he learned - by the very fairy who cast the curse upon him in the first place, she insisted on accompanying them.

Rumplestiltskin had also made certain to have Belle hold an unstoppered vial of sweet fruit juice in her hand; the one the golem had been holding when he drew forth their consciousnesses from Pandora’s box.

Jefferson had barely spoken a word since they left the small, private mausoleum Rumplestiltskin had erected for Priscilla’s remains, and now sat morose and broody staring into the fire.

“Tea,” Belle suggested. “Everything looks brighter after a cup of tea.”

Jefferson answered with a “hmm” of affirmation, and Rumplestiltskin knew he couldn’t stand to see the man this way. He felt responsible; guilty, and if he were honest, sorrowful himself for his friend’s pain. With a breath he made his decision.

“Why don’t _I_ be mum,” he said with an impish gesture. “You’ve both been through enough for one day.”

With a wave of his hand, he summoned a steaming pot of tea, and the teacups to go with it. He also summoned, from the tower, a small vial of memory potion. One or two drops would do the trick. He didn’t want Jefferson to forget forever, or forget the important truths; just the pain of the day.

Tea poured, he slipped the vial into a pocket, and brought the cups of tea, one to Belle, and the other, with the drops that he hoped would bring Jefferson relief, he gave to Jefferson, and with his own tea, stood between the two chairs, taking a sip from his chipped cup.

He saw the moment the potion had taken effect. It was as though Jefferson had come to life before him.

The sparkle came back to the other man’s eyes, and the playful smile that lifted his hair if it grew into a full on grin, as so often it did, spread onto his face once more.

“You always _did_ make a good cup of tea,” Jefferson said to Rumplestiltskin. “But it will have to be one for the road.”

“Oh, must you leave so soon?” Belle said with a degree of disappointment in her voice, and a quizzical glance at Rumplestiltskin, no doubt, at the sudden change in The Hatter.

“I’m afraid so, dear lady,” Jefferson answered. “I don’t want to burden the neighbors too long or too often with the care of my Grace, and if I’m not back soon, she’ll worry.”

“Oh,” Rumplestiltskin said, with almost a hop in place, seizing the moment to ensure the other wrong from Wonderland was righted. “That reminds me…” He crossed to the table where the fruit juice, imbued with the stolen piece of Grace’s consciousness, stood. “Here’s the medicine you asked for. It should have her feeling right as rain in no time.”

Jefferson took the offered vial. “Thank you, Rumplestiltskin,” he said, and then added, “and that reminds _me_. What was it you wanted…? when you invited me here I mean.”

“Oh that,” Rumplestiltskin waved a dismissive hand in Jefferson’s direction. “It’s not important.”

“No, tell me,” Jefferson insisted, and Rumplestiltskin shrugged.

“I was just going to ask you to help me with something,” he said. “But it doesn’t matter now.” then turning a little darker, at least in intonation, added, “It seems I have an infestation to take care of.”

“Well then,” Jefferson drained his cup, and climbed to his feet. “In that case, I’d better be getting back to my Grace.”

“You should bring her for a visit some time,” Rumplestiltskin invited, “Plenty of places to play in the Dark Castle.”

Jefferson chuckled. “Thank you, I might,” he said. Then picking up his hat from where he’d left it, and with a polite bow in Belle’s direction. “Good day to the both of you.”

Once he’d gone, Rumplestiltskin let out a long, slow sigh, and setting down the tea cup, slowly made his way to where his wheel sat waiting.

“What did you _do_ to him?” Belle asked before he reached it.

“Memory potion,” he replied. “Not enough to completely wipe what happened from his mind, but… enough to take away the pain.”

“Rumple!” Belle started to admonish.

“He’ll remember… in time.” Rumplestiltskin sighed, “A little at a time - when he’s better able to deal with the grief of it.”

Belle smiled. “Careful, Dark One…” she teased, “I believe you’re letting your compassion show.”

“Compassion, Ha!” he answered dramatically. “Now, tell me again… about this fairy that abducted you.”

**Author's Note:**

> As an end note, I just would like to say thank you to @peacehopeandrats for putting Alice in my way, and also - this serves as a kind of... teaser for an upcoming fic. :) Thanks for reading


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